Oh, Son of Mine
by McRaider
Summary: When Burt went to work that morning, he never imagined getting a phone call from the emergency room stating his son had been brought in by the guidance counselor because he was drunk.


Oh Son of Mine

McRaider

Summary: When Burt went to work that morning, he never imagined getting a phone call from the emergency room stating his son had been brought in by the guidance counselor because he was drunk.

Author's Note: I wrote this because I always wondered what exactly happened when Burt found out his son had been drinking.

Rating: PG-13 for some mild language

Spoilers: The Rhodes not Taken

Kurt Hummel was many things, most of which went along with the words fabulous. However, when Ms. Pillsbury met him in the hallway she was surprised by how utter disheveled he looked to her. He always looked well put together, prim and proper and if she had an opinion, his fashion was positively riveting at times. "Kurt?" She almost didn't recognize this boy in front of her. His eyes were sullen and looked hazy. "I know my household products…you smell like rubbing alcohol?"And then he got sick all over her shoes.

When Burt Hummel arrived at his garage this morning, he had a mental list a mile long of things that had to get done; his garage was at his maximum occupancy with seven cars-and practically twelve workers. In addition to all the cars, he had to make notes on each of them for the books, make sure all the bills were paid. Never did he imagine he'd receive a phone call from the Guidance Counselor of McKinley High School. "Hummel Tires and Lube," He answered the phone, wondering why someone else couldn't have answered the damn phone.

"Mr. Hummel?" A meek voice spoke over the phone; she sounded this side of panicky.

"This is him."

There was a deep sigh on the other side of the phone, and Burt was fairly sure he heard vomiting in the background. "This is Emma Pillsbury from McKinley High School…"

"The guidance counselor?" His thoughts turned to his son, immediately worry building in the pit of his stomach. "Kurt, has something happened?"

Emma glanced over at the vomiting boy, then down at her shoes and she grimaced, trying not to think how all the germs were rapidly seeping into her shoes. The ambulance had just arrived; she was more tempted to demand they give her a sterilizing bath than take the kid. "Your son…has become rather ill. We've called for an ambulance; perhaps it would be best if you met us there."

"Is it that serious?" Burt felt dizzy at the thought that his son was being rushed to the ER.

"Yes, yes it is." She offered.

They both went; Emma managed to convince them she desperately needed a sterilizing shower…or four. They'd tried to tell her they didn't have them, but she'd all but forced her way onto the ambulance, screaming in panic and anger.

Burt hung up the phone and looked over at Carl, "Carl you're in charge, my kid is sick…I have to go to the hospital."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Carl asked, he was a good guy and had known Kurt since he was three.

"I don't know."

The other man nodded, "Keep me updated man, let me know if you need something."

Burt had never driven to the hospital so fast. Racing to find out what had happened to his son. By the time he had arrived, the ambulance had already clearly unloaded. He rushed inside, "I'm looking for my son, Kurt Hummel?" He tried to remain calm, his body shaking with fear.

The woman took a moment to look, "Ah yes, Mr. Hummel, he's in ER 1, admitted for alcohol poisoning."

"Thank-wait I'm sorry?" Burt's mind did a double take. His son, a sixteen year old kid who bitched about the taste of Burt's beer, had been admitted for alcohol poisoning.

"Sir?" She questioned him.

"I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood, did you just say my child was admitted for alcohol poisoning?"

The woman glared at him, she'd seen parents like this: parents who didn't care a penny about their children until they got in trouble or cost the parents time or money. "You should be ashamed of yourself-" She began.

Burt glared at her, hard and long, "Spare me a parental diatribe and tell me how to find my son so I can make sure he's all right before I ground him for the next thirty years."

Raising an eyebrow she pointed back to a curtained off room. He growled something before he turned and stalked towards the room. He took a moment, a part of him was honestly concern, and alcohol poisoning wasn't anything to mess with. But another part was so damn furious. He'd talk to Kurt a long time ago about alcohol, right before he'd started high school and his son had made it abundantly clear he had no interest in the mind altering beverage.

However, Burt had been on this end of his fair share of binges, unproud as he was to admit it. He took a slow breath, they'd probably pumped the kid's stomach or let him barf it all up. Depending if they had and were he'd rapidly be entering the Hangover stage. Burt decided he'd save the lecture and yelling for that part. He pulled the curtain back, his green eyes set dead on a pair of sullen eyes of a very sick teenager.

A little of Burt's anger melted away at the sight of his miserable son. "Dad," Kurt's look was filled with utter terror at the sight of his father standing there. The man was intimidating and strong, and right now he looked huge in comparison to Kurt.

A red headed woman, Burt assumed Emma Pillsbury, was wearing scrubs and a pair of odd surgical booties, was seated in the room, her eyes shot up to the man standing in the entrance way. "I know I did not just get a phone call from someone telling me my sixteen year old son is drunk!" Burt snapped.

Kurt jumped, and had the decency to look stuck between horrified and sick as a dog. "Dad-"

"Please spare me," Burt replied simply. He pinched the bridge of his nose, before he looked at Emma, then back at his son. "Are you all right?" He asked calmly. He could be angry at his son when he didn't look so pathetic; he'd need discipline later when he was capable of absorbing what was being said. For now, he needed his dad. Stepping over to the bed he placed his hand against the boy's forehead. "You're running a slight fever. Did they give you that stuff to make you throw up?"

Kurt gave a weak nod, before grabbing his basin and emptying the little remnants of his stomach again. Burt sighed as he rubbed his son's back, watching the child heave. "Ms. Pillsbury, I appreciate your concern but you can certainly go now."

She stood and looked from Burt to Kurt, "I want you to understand Mr. Hummel how serious this is-"

He waved his hand, "My sixteen year old child is suffering from alcohol poisoning I have every idea of how serious this is and believe me. He'll be punished. But right now I'd prefer to know he's okay. I understand your concern."

"I spoke with the Principal, I'm sorry Kurt but you're suspended for the duration of one day."

Burt smirked and looked down at his son, "Nice going kid. Guess who gets to come to work with me?"

Kurt groaned the garage was loud and noisy. "This is not fair."

"Don't even get me started on fair."

Emma took her leave, a few minutes later a doctor stepped into the room; she didn't look much older than Kurt. But Burt paid attention to her all the same, accepting the typical lecture on childhood drinking. They wanted to keep Kurt for another hour under observation and then he was free to go home.

Burt sighed as he sat down in the plastic chair by the bed and he studied his son for a long moment. "Sorry," Kurt whispered.

"I don't doubt it." He looked at his son, "Is this some rebellious side of you coming out, demanding I not be okay with your sexuality or that I be more okay with it…or something? Because if I have to start laying the law down a little more, I'd rather be prepared. I'm not a big fan of punishing you, so I may have to talk myself up to it."

Kurt chuckled weakly. "No."

Burt nodded, thankful for that. He hadn't thought so, he knew his child better than anyone and sixteen years of history didn't lie, his son wasn't a trouble maker. "Good, wasn't sure I was ready for that." He sighed slowly, removing his hat and pulling at the frayed edges, "So…who gave you the booze kid."

Kurt's eyes began to water as he shook his head. "No one," He whimpered.

Burt sighed, standing up; he tossed his hat on the chair and took a seat on the hospital bed beside his son. "Kurt, I know you didn't get them from the house, the most potent beverage I have is ten year old scotch and that's under lock and key where you can't find it."

"I'm sorry," He cried softly. The boy leaned forward, his head against his dad's shoulder.

Burt smiled sadly, kissing the top of his kid's head, "I've got you," He held him for a couple minutes, until the tears subsided, wiping them from his son's cheeks he looked at him seriously. "I need to know who gave you the alcohol son, that way no one else gets sick. What happens if someone else gets it and they try to drive home…what would've happened if you'd driven home," Burt shook his head, leaning their foreheads together. "I won't lose you."

Kurt sniffled, "I'm really sorry, I wouldn't have driven I-"

"Shhh, we'll have that argument when you're hungover tomorrow."

The teen pulled away, confused, "Why?"

"So I can yell and torture you," The father grinned, causing his son to half sob half laugh.

"I'm a crappy kid," He sobbed.

"That's the alcohol talking. You're an amazing son, and a great kid. Why did you take the alcohol son? Maybe that's the better question."

Kurt made to wipe his face, but Burt beat him to it with a tissue, "Cause she said it would make all my fears go away."

Burt narrowed that list down-whoever it was, it was a woman. "What fears son?"

Kurt shrugged. Burt shook his head, "Oh no, you're not choosing now to be private and quiet. You're stuck with me for the next two days, if you want me to go easy on you tomorrow, then you'll want to sing like a canary now."

"I'm gay dad…every day I'm afraid."

Burt could understand that, so was he. Afraid he'd never see his son walk through that door; afraid someone would kill him or kill Kurt. It was a parental right to worry about his child. He'd once likened having a child to having your heart ripped from your chest and then be forced to watch it run around and play. "Of who, the kids at school?"

"Them…being different…death…you dying…telling you…" He stopped, "That you'll stop loving me."

Shaking his head, Burt pulled his son close again, "Never gonna happen," He whispered. "Never, do you hear me." Feeling his son nod, he took a moment to drive at least one point home. "Drinking won't get rid of those fears, son. In fact I think you're realizing they only make them more volatile."

"You drank after mom died."

Burt looked down at his son. "I did a lot of things I wasn't proud of when your mom died. One of the biggest ones being I spent two days in a deep depression and forgot that my son was hurting to. That doesn't mean those emotions went away."

"I really don't feel good," Kurt whimpered.

Burt chuckled softly, he gently nudged his son over, "Come on then, no reason you need to be miserable now." He lay down with this son on the bed, an angle making them half sitting half lying. He pulled his son close and hummed softly, his hands working their way through the mop of messy brown sweat soaked hair. "_Come stop your crying, it'll be all right_,"

_Just hold my hand_

_I'll hold you tight_

_I will protect you, _

_from all around you_

_You'll be safe don't cry._

It had been one of his favorite movies when Kurt was little; his mother had always held him singing that song. He wasn't surprised to see it did the same thing it did when he was a child, put him to sleep within moments.

The doctor returned as promised just shy of an hour later with discharge papers. She grinned from ear to ear at the sight of father and son. "He's going to be fine," She offered.

He nodded, "I know, and once he and I talk about this further, he'll be even better."

"You're very calm."

Burt shrugged, "Right now, I have to be his father, show I'm concerned and that I care."

"And later?"

The man grinned like an idiot, "I'll do to him what my father did to me when I got drunk for the first time."

"Lecture him extra loud?"

"Oh yeah.

"You're a good dad."

Burt shrugged, "I try, and he's just a really good kid normally."

"Everyone has a slippery day sometimes."

"I know. Anything I need to be aware of?"

She shook her head, "Nope, lots of fluids, keep an eye on him, if he starts to run a fever or continues to vomit tomorrow, bring him back in."

"I can do that."

"I'll give you two some privacy. Just make sure you stop at the front desk to sign the last of the papers."

Burt nodded and looked down at his son. His memory went to last week when his son had kicked that football. He remembered thinking how little the boy was, and now he looked that way again. Small compared to the rest of the world, thin and frail at times. But then he opened his mouth and he was all strength and might. Pressing a quick kiss to the boy's forehead, he gently shook his son awake, "Time to go home."

"No garage," The boy mumbled.

Burt smirked, "Not today, no. Come on then, up you go."

A few moments later his coherent son and he headed to the front desk, where they were once again faced with the woman. "I'm here to sign my kid out." Kurt, not paying attention saw a sign for soup in the cafeteria.

"Dad," He said quietly, "Can I borrow a couple bucks?"

"Why so you can get more alcohol," The woman glared at the father. Burt pulled out his wallet and handed a few bucks to his son, seeing the sign for soup. He opened his mouth to speak, but shockingly a very coherent Kurt spoke for him.

"Look lady," The boy paused, weaving slightly as yelling made him nausea, "My mother died in a car accident caused by a drunk driver, so he's given me every lecture there is on drinking! Did it ever dawn on you maybe he's the best father on the face of the planet and he's just trying to make sure I don't keel over from puking my guts out! He didn't even give me the alcohol so back the hell off and just give him the paperwork to sign so I can go home!"

"Watch your language," Was all Burt could fathom to say, he looked at his kid, "We'll get some soup on the way home, okay?"

Kurt sighed and nodded. He watched his father sign the paperwork and all but toss the clipboard back at the woman, "Come on kid," Wrapping an arm around his son's shoulders and pulling him close, the two Hummels made their way out of the hospital.

"Sorry," Kurt managed to look guilty before he turned to vomit in a nearby trashcan.

Burt chuckled softly as he all but dragged his kid to the truck. "Don't apologize; I think you just taught that woman a valuable lesson."

"Don't judge…"

"Don't mess with a Hummel. Let's get you home."

By the time they arrived home nearly twenty minutes later, Kurt was fast asleep, his head resting against the window. Burt chuckled softly as he unbuckled his son, gently nudging him. "Come on kiddo, I'm too old to carry you," Burt joked, though really he wasn't, he didn't think his son wanted that.

Kurt slept the rest of the afternoon on the couch. Burt had created a cocoon of blankets with a trashcan and tissues nearby. He kept the TV on low as he watched ESPN, occasionally glancing over at his slumbering teenager.

He sighed and leaned his head back against the chair at one point, considering the day, considering his son. As if life hadn't been hard enough, someone had to go and toss booze into the equation. Burt hated whoever did this to his child. He recognized that it wasn't entirely said person's fault; after all Kurt had been dumb enough to go with it. But ultimately, someone had given his underaged son something to drink. Burt was lucky he didn't have social services breathing down his neck. He closed his eyes, feeling his eyes well with tears. He prided himself on his temper; normally he kept it in check. But between the fear of not originally knowing what was wrong, then the fear that someone was just handing out alcohol, now knowing that everything was okay, he felt a little like everything was crashing around him.

He closed his eyes for a long minute, letting the burning tears abate before he opened his eyes again. His eyes on the child he sighed wearily, a little shaky. Standing he made his way over to the boy, tucking an arm that had slipped out from under the covers in, and kissed his head, "You are a wonderful young man, and I love you son." Standing, Burt made his way into the kitchen. Reaching above the fridge, he unhooked the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of scotch. He took a small sip, and sighed. Putting the cap back on it, he put it back where it belonged and he got to preparing dinner.

He heard a grunt at some point and glanced over his shoulder to see the couch empty and blankets folded. He assumed his son had gone to take a shower. He waited to finish up dinner until his son was back upstairs.

"Hey," Kurt said almost cautiously.

Burt eyed his son, setting a plate of food in front of him, "It's not soup, but Mac and Cheese is pretty bland."

"Thank you." He whispered.

Burt nodded; he sat down, his own plate and glass of milk in front of him. "How you feeling?"

"Amazingly stupid." The teen replied.

Burt chuckled softly. "I'd really like to discuss this."

Kurt gave a slight nod, "Yes sir." He whispered. He looked at his dad, understanding the lecture was coming.

"Kurt…" The next words almost killed him, "I can't begin to describe how disappointed in you I was today." Perhaps what made it worse was that his son was already hurting, he nodded, eyes down at the plate as he pushed the food around. "We've had this conversation son, I've told you what alcohol does, and I trusted you to make the right choice. You realize you only have yourself to blame?"

"Yes sir," came the soft reply.

"You're grounded for a month, longer if you argue," He added when his son opened his mouth to speak. "Grounded, meaning no new clothes, no shopping-online or at the stores, no allowance. You will come to the garage every night for the next month after school unless I instruct otherwise. The only thing you are allowed to do after school is Glee-and be damn thankful I'm allowing that because I'm willing to bet someone from Glee gave you the booze."

"Yes sir."

"The computer is off limits unless it's directly school related and believe me, I'll be checking. Your car is off limits as well for the next month. No TV either." The teenager gave a slow nod, still looking at the table. His cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment. He hadn't been punished like this in a long time. "Finally," Burt continued, "If I ever, EVER" his voice hitching an octave causing his son to wince, "Catch you drinking irresponsibly or under age, or both again, you'll be lucky to see the light of day for a year. Also you need to be prepared for me to start questioning where you're going, when you'll be home and if parental supervision will be accompanying you for awhile."

"Dad-" Kurt knew that meant his father couldn't trust him.

"Are you arguing with me?"

"No sir," He whispered. "For how long?" He whispered.

"Until I feel like I can trust you not to make bad decisions."

That hurt the most; his father had always trusted Kurt to make good choices. Kurt was pretty sure this sucked worse than the actual drinking part. "If you can prove to me after a month that this was a one time thing…then you can have your rights returned and I may back off a little."

"Yes sir," He whispered.

Burt reached out, gripping his son's hand, "Kurt, alcohol is a mind altering drug, just because it does come in pill or powder doesn't mean it's safe. Bad decisions killed your mother; I trust I don't ever have to have this conversation with you again?" He hated implying that his son would ever do this again, but in truth he was occasionally an irresponsible teenager. Burt could see his son was crying and upset, despite his attempt at eating the food. The boy's breath hitched for a moment.

Burt sighed heavily, "You can be excused if you'd like."

Nodding, the boy grabbed his food and headed downstairs, pride hurting and guilt raging. Burt let out a breath he'd been holding and buried his face in his hands. "God some days being a dad sucks," He whispered.

Burt flipped the TV on for the rest of the evening, letting Sports Center run as he mindlessly watched, thinking only of his son who hadn't shown his face yet. At some point he was vaguely aware that he'd dozed off.

_"Mr. Hummel?" A voice spoke to him through the phone. _

_ "This is him." _

_ "This is Will Schuster…Kurt's Glee Club teacher." He heard a heavy sigh on the other line, "I'm calling…I…sir, Kurt's dead." _

_ "What?" He felt his legs shake, his mind go blank. "He…what…" _

_ "We found him on the side of the road, someone drove him off the side of the road." _

_ "No…" He shook his head, dropping the phone, "No please…" _

"No," the man groaned, shaking his head.

"Dad!" Kurt's voice shot through the dream and Burt's eyes shot open, he sat up, breathing heavily. He shivered looking around, unsure where he was suddenly. His son stood before him-he must have traded his normal fashionable clothes for a comfortable pair of boxers and a light blue shirt that matched. "Dad?" Kurt questioned. Burt realized he was still on the couch and the only thing showing the time was the clock on the TV.

Burt couldn't think of anything else to do, he grabbed his son into a tight hug. "Don't you ever do that to me again," He whispered, holding his child. He hadn't realized the consequences this would've played.

"Dad…did you just have a nightmare?" Kurt didn't really think adults had nightmares. He'd always just assumed they'd go away after a certain age.

Burt shook his head once more time, trying to shake the feelings of utter dread and devastation. "What are you doing awake?" He asked, realizing it was nearly three in the morning.

"I…" Kurt nudged the floor with his toe, "I had a bad dream too," He whispered.

Burt smiled weakly, still feeling a little shaky he pointed to the kitchen, "I know a half gallon of ice cream with our name on it," He slowly made his way into the kitchen, but suddenly he felt a tug on his hand. He turned around and suddenly felt like he was looking at his six year old son rather than sixteen. Tears coursed down the boy's cheeks and remorse filled his every fiber. "I'm sorry dad," He cried. He stepped forward and hugged his son.

Burt, tears filling his own eyes, threw his arms back around his boy and held on tight. "God I love you," He whimpered.

"I'll never be bad again."

Burt chuckled softly as he held on tight, "Course you will, that's called being a human and a child. But I love you just the same," His words mirroring the conversation they'd had last week. He could only hope he continued to be the best dad in the world to Kurt.

The End


End file.
